


Smarter Than Your Average Reid

by WrecklessImagine



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love, Open Relationship, Romance, Smut, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:31:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5433188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrecklessImagine/pseuds/WrecklessImagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when someone smarter than Reid joins the BAU team?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ouch

“You must be the new girl,” Morgan says, smiling from the desk he’s sitting on. Realizing it’s your new desk, Morgan’s face drops and he springs up.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby girl, I didn’t realize,” he says, his facial expressions dropping.

Furrowing your brow, you fiddle with the contact in your eye and say, “No no, it’s not a problem. And my name is Y/L/N.”

“Oh, he calls all the women ‘baby girl’,” Garcia pipes up.

“It’s alright, but I just prefer to be called by my name, no offense Agent…?”

“Morgan. And I’ll commit that to memory. I’m sorry again,” he says.

“No, no, it’s alright. Just don’t like pet names is all,” you murmur.

As Morgan and Garcia’s eyebrows shoot up, Hotchner comes into the room. “I see we’ve all met the newest team member. Everyone gather around,” he says.

As the other members of the team wrap themselves around you, you look down at your feet. “This is Y/F/N Y/L/N, and she will be joining us for a while as a consultant. She has many particular fields of interest, and she has been approved as someone that we can call on if any particular case takes us more than 40 hours to complete.”

“Well, that’s just about every one,” Spencer pipes up, furrowing his brow, “why don’t you just make her a part of the team permanently?” he asks.

“Because that’s the decision that the board made, “Hotch said, shooting Spencer a wondering glance. “She will be here for all of the briefs, kept in the loop with updates, and then brought into headquarters alongside Garcia should we need her past the 40 hour mark. Of course, she can come with us from the start if anyone calls in sick or, for whatever the reason, she would be of more use to us than usual.”

Standing there, listening to them talk to you as if you aren’t around, someone named Alex Blake pipes in. “So, Y/F/N,” she says, “What are your skills?”

“Um…” you stammer, searching for the right words. “Well, I knit. And I, um…I play 11 different instruments. Well…it’s actually 16, but I lump all of the keyboard instruments together since you don’t have to learn a new layout of notes and there’s hardly any variation in the technique used to play them, and it sounds less pretentious than 16…and I dance, and I sing opera, and I read. A lot. I can process 22,000 words a minute.”

As the team falls silent, Spencer swallows. “How many?”

Looking up at him, you say, “22,000.”

You see Agent Morgan jab him in the stomach as he looks at you and says, “Do you have any doctorates?”

“Um…six,” you say, scratching the eye that has been bothering you all day. “Two in the medical field, two in the psychology field, and two in the music field. Trauma/Diagnostics and OB/Pediatrics, Abnormal/Clinical and Criminal, and Vocal Performance and Conducting…are the um…specifics.”

As the teams’ jaws drop, Spencer’s face pales, and you wonder why he is having this reaction. Cursing under your breath, you rip out your contacts, stuff them in your pocket, and pull out the coke-bottle glasses that cover just about half of your face.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I figured I would try my best to look…more hip…for this job. But those things are murder on my eyes,” you say, continuing to rub them furiously.

“What’s your IQ?” the one named Spencer asks.

“191.”

You watch him lock his jaw. Furrowing your brow, you lift your hand to ask him what’s wrong, but Hotchner interrupts you. “Meeting in 20,” he says.

As everyone stands around, looking warily at Spencer, you feel very uncomfortable. Backing out of the group, you set all of your stuff on your newly obtained, butt-covered desk before bounding up the steps to the meeting room.

“Looks like Spence has some competition,” J.J. muses playfully.

“She’s your perfect counterpart, Reid,” Blake rubs his back.

“She’s gonna kick him out of the group with those smarts!” Morgan yells from the other side of the room.

Watching from the meeting center, Garcia comes up and slips her arm into yours. You now realize why Spencer was reacting the way that he was.

And you felt awful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Casting your gaze down at the iPad Garcia placed in front of you, you furrow your brow as you try to figure out how to use it.

“Um…M-Miss…Garcia?” you say, not quite remembering her name.

“Yes, my intellectually stimulating ray of sunshine?” she says as she comes over.

“Um…do you have any more folders. You know, like what…uh…Agent Reid has?”

Rolling her eyes playfully and giggling, she swaps your iPad for another folder of papers.

“Not a technology fan either!?” Morgan pipes up, shaking his head as he chuckles.

You dart your eyes over to Spencer, wanting to give him an “I’m sorry” glance but instead his face is red and he is staring intently at the screen in front of the team.

Feeling your eyes burn, you take a deep breath and cast your eyes back towards Garcia.

“So, our journey today takes us to Eau Claire, Wisconsin…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing the team out to the airplane, Hotch turns to you and says, “I’ll call you with any major updates, but if you go thru those files and think of anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

Nodding, you see Hotch motion to Spencer to come over.

Uh oh.

“Reid,” Hotch says, “if you come up with anything, or need any help, here’s Y/L/N’s number.”

As Spencer stares at it, he looks back up at Hotch. “I have Blake. We’ll be just fine.”

Smiling wearily and shuffling from one foot to the other, Hotch shoots him a look. “Take the number and keep her updated. You know you always get updates before I do.”

“I thought you just said you would call her,” Spencer threw back.

“Reid,” Hotch sharpened his tone.

“I-it’s alright,” you say, your body starting to tremble under the tension, “You can just call me, Mr. Hotchner. Reid doesn’t have to.”

“Dr. Reid,” he spat back at you.

As Hotch looks back at you and sees how uncomfortable you are, he nods his head in agreement and turns his back to glare at Spencer. Hearing you walk away, Hotch grabs Spencer’s arm.

“I’m embarrassed for you,” he says to Spencer.

“What do you mean?” he shoots back.

“If there’s anyone on this team that can make her feel unlike an outcast and part of a family, it’s you. And from where I’m standing, you’re the only one making her uncomfortable. If I was your father, I’d tell you how ashamed I was of you.”

“Well, good thing you’re not,” Spencer shoots back, yanking his arm out from Hotch’s grasp.

And as you stood at the terminal, watching the team take off without you, a single, lonely tear falls from your blood-red eyes.


	2. Coffee

Walking back into headquarters, you weren’t quite ready to go home. The team was in the air, and you knew that Garcia would be somewhere, conferenced in god-knows-how, talking about god-knows-what.

Sitting down at your desk, you sigh, wiping the last of the tears from your eyes as you flip open the folder and study its contents.

Fingering thru pictures, reading thru statements, and memorizing facts, your eyes dart all over the place, taking in all of the men that have surfaced dead around the area. Different hair colors, different eye colors, different backgrounds.

“What connects them…?”

Not realizing Garcia is behind you, she puts her hand on your shoulder. Yelping, you jump out of your seat, grabbing the letter opener at your desk.

“Whoa, ho ho, little prairie dog!” Garcia half-chuckles as she throws her hands in the air, “I come in peace.”

Sighing, you put the opener down and sit back in your chair. Pulling up a chair beside you, Garcia puts her hand on your knee.

“Please don’t mind Reid. He really is a wonderful guy…he just feels intimidated.”

“I gathered,” you sigh, wishing she wouldn’t bring up the topic.

“He’s used to being the smart one,” he smiles at you.

“Just because I’m here doesn’t make him any less smart,” you say, furrowing your brow.

“Have you ever been in a room where you aren’t the smartest one in the group?” she asks.

Shaking your head “no,” Garcia squeezes your knee lightly and gives you a faint smile.

“Well, neither has he. Until now.”

Nodding in slow realization, Garcia’s phone buzzes along with yours.

We’ve landed. Anything new?

“He doesn’t waste any time,” you mutter to yourself, shutting your phone and turning back to the folder on your desk.

“I’ll be in my cave if you need me,” Garcia says.

But you didn’t even feel as she patted your knee and got up, for you were engrossed in your folder, trying desperately to find a connection.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

3 hours later and nothing.

No connection, no profile, and no body.

Pulling your hair clip out and scratching your head, you let your long Y/C/H hair tumble past your shoulder blades as it poofs out around your face. You always kept your hair up because of how unruly it was, but today you didn’t care.

Today you needed to catch a killer.

Growing frustrated and pushing yourself out from your desk, you pick up your folder and start for Garcia’s chambers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Knocking on her door lightly, you hear nothing…

Until a little creak of the door happens.

“Uh…hey!” she says nervously, causing you to become concerned.

Putting your hand on your firearm, you ask if she is alright. But, when she gives you a look of concern, you slide yourself in thru the small slit in the door, drawing your weapon, only to realize why she was nervous.

She wasn’t nervous because someone was in there.

She was nervous because they were giving the profile.

Without you.

“I protested as much as I could,” she harshly whispers in your ear as you attempt to choke back tears for the third time that day, “But it was Reid’s turn to give the profile, and he started before anyone could object, and-”

Holding your hand up, you cut her off. Looking at her with sad eyes, you go and sit down in her chair, huffing as you bellow over the conversation.

“Shut. Up.”

As Hotch turns and looks at the computer screen, eyes wide, Spencer stops mid-sentence and gawks.

“Whatever you’re saying, Dr. Reid, you have it all wrong.”

“Of course she would think that,” he holds out his hand to your image.

“I found the connection between the bodies we have already found,” you state.

Peaking Hotch’s interest, he comes over to the camera and shrouds your face from everyone else. “What is it, Y/L/N?”

“Are you serious!?” you hear Reid yell in the background.

“Tell the whiny little child to stop acting like a brat and shut up,” you spit, causing a little smirk to arise on Hotch’s face.

Hearing nothing but silence in the background, you pick up your photos and show them, one by one, over the camera to Hotch.

“You look at eye colors, hair colors, ethnicities, cities of birth, number of children, possible abuse in the past…but you never stop to consider the small things…things like where the shop, what they eat, whether or not they groom,” you emphasized the last one.

Rossi gets into the picture as you continue. “All of these men are very well groomed…nice hair cuts, close shaves, and the ones with facial hair are trimmed to perfection, and you have considered the possibility that the unsub is doing this to these men post-mortem as some sort of guilt ritual, correct?”

As Hotch and Rossi nod over the camera, you say, “What if he isn’t?”

As realization overcomes Hotch and Rossi, Spencer wiggles his way into the camera.

“Are you saying that the killer could be their barber?” he says in a softened tone.

Taken aback by his voice, you stutter, “Uh, y-yes,” you say, shuffling papers, “Garcia, cross-reference the men’s expenses with the barber shops in the area.

“Already on it.”

As the team waits on the other end of the call, Garcia shakes her head in amazement. “Alright, two barber shops pop up between all of them, but there’s only one barber that works at both.”

“Send us the info,” Hotch says, dominating the conference call again.

“Already sent,” she gleams.

Swiveling in your chair, you go to get up when you hear Hotch’s voice in the background. “Y/L/N?”

“Yes?” you say, turning around.

“Good work,” he says before cutting the call.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

You had come early into the office that morning. Hotch had called when the arrest had been made, and the team decided to come back into town instead of staying the night, so you had pieced yourself together at 4 in the morning and headed over to usher them home.

As they all stepped off of the plane, you were there with a smile and some food.

“Figured you guys might be hungry,” you say sheepishly.

As everyone smiles and thanks you for the food, Morgan comes over and pats you on the back.

“That was slick, Einstein,” he chuckles, giving you that trademark smile that covered his eyes completely.

“Can you even see when you flash that thing?” you shoot back, causing Morgan to go wide-eyed.

“And she has sass!” he holds out his arms. “Welcome to the club, Y/L/N!”

Laughing at him, Rossi and Hotch join the fun, doting on the great job you did.

“Wow, where did you get these so late at night?” J.J. said with a full mouth.

“I made them a couple of days ago,” you said. You baked whenever you were stressed or couldn’t sleep, and you were always looking for reasons to give the stuff away so it didn’t end up on your thighs.

As everyone eats your muffins and starts to dissipate, you turn your back to walk to your car when a voice comes out of the darkness.

“These are really good.”

Turning your head at Spencer’s voice, you lower your head to look at your feet. “I’m glad you like them. I was hoping no one was allergic to blueberries.”

As the two of you stood there in silence, you could see that the team had stopped under the hangar to watch everything unfold.

“Look, I-” but you cut him off.

“I know that this isn’t easy. I mean, you are used to being not only the smartest one of the gang, but also the youngest, and now, here comes this strange girl from absolutely nowhere who is statistically smarter and younger than you, taking from you, in one big sweep, the two things that define you within your family.”

As Spencer blinks at you, you take a ragged breath and continue, “And I want you to know that I’m not a threat. There’s a good chance that this team will be like every other one: everyone will find out how weird and quiet and boring I am, and they won’t want to ask me out to girls’ nights, and they won’t want to ask me out to drinks, and they won’t want to come over and hang out, and pretty soon the team leader is putting in for yet another transfer because I just don’t fit in with their family and make others feel uncomfortable with my intellect.”

Feeling the tears tease your eye lashes, you blink them away and start up again, “So don’t worry, because I’m sure in a few short weeks you will be right back to your position with your family, and I will be shoved off to yet another foster family where I can be a burden there for a few weeks.”

Turning your back to continue walking towards the hangar, you feel a light pressure on your forearm, causing you to turn around.

The tears breaking the levees of your eyes, they rip roar down your cheeks as you recall all of the families that you could have loved, but never wanted to love you in return.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, furrowing his brow in sorrow. “I had no idea…”

“No one does, because I don’t talk about is,” you hiss, pulling your arm out of his grip.

As his arm flops down to his side, he reaches out and grabs you again, only this time you flail around and raise your voice.

“What do you want!?” you yell at him.

“I want to apologize. For being an ass, and for making you feel as if you weren’t allowed to be here, and for making you cry, and making you hurt, and making you feel as if you didn’t belong…because if there is anywhere you belong, it’s with us.”

Sighing, you drop the defensive shield you had worked all day to put up. You were tired, you were upset, but most of all?

You were alone.

“What can I do?” he lowers his voice, pleading with you to forgive him.

Looking up at him, you smirk ever-so-faintly.

“I take my coffee hot and creamy, with two pumps of caramel, Dr. Reid.”

And as he cracks a faint smile, nodding in acknowledgement, you turn around to go home as he says, “Spencer. It’s Spencer, if you’d like.”


	3. The Three of You

Splashing water in your face, you try desperately to wake up. Hotch had called you at 7:30, saying that your “expertise” was needed on a few cases, and told you to pack a bag.

That didn’t last long.

Auto-piloting on the ride to work, you wonder what particular case they have stumbled upon that Spencer couldn’t aid. After all, you had stepped on his toes enough. 

Walking into the office building, you yawn and step into the elevator. 

“Don’t worry, you get used to the hours.” 

Jumping, you lift your gaze up, meeting eye to eye with the young man whom you have pissed off on several occasions since your arrival a few days ago. Smiling lightly at you, he takes your go bag and hands you a large, steaming cup of coffee. 

“Caramel, right?” 

Sniffing the coffee, you take a huge swig, gulp it down, sigh in relief, and open your eyes. “Thank you,” you say meekly, giving him a smile back. 

As the doors open, you two slump out and head towards the stairs for the conference room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Blake has the flu, are you alright to step in?” Hotch asks you as you enter the room. 

“Of course,” you say, making a mental note to call her and get her address so you can send her something to help with her illness. “Alright, here’s your folder, Garcia’s about to brief.” 

Sitting over in the corner, Spencer comes and takes the seat next to you. Furrowing your brow at him, he looks at you and tilts his head. 

“Blake and I usually sit together and combine efforts until we get to where we are going. Is that alright?” 

Nodding your head, Garcia starts in on the issue. 5 missing women, all from different psychiatric facilities in California in the last month. None have turned up, and no particular suspects. 

As you half-listen to Garcia drone on, you start flipping thru the pile of photos and medical records for the women that have been released to the team. Trying to find a connection, you tick idea after idea off of your mental list, quickly dwindling your first gut responses…until you get to their latest medical exams. 

Raising your hand, Garcia stops mid-sentence. “This isn’t preschool. Speak, my child.” 

Looking up at her and chuckling a bit, you take out the women’s last medical records before their disappearance. “Look at their last appointments.” As you hear everyone tittering with their iPads, Spencer’s eyes widen when he puts it together. 

“It’s not about what’s there…it’s about what’s not,” he mumbles, looking up at you. 

“Brilliant,” he whispers, furrowing his brow in surprise and admiration.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After realizing that the mental patients never signed off on their medical records, it was easy to pinpoint the medical doctor hopping from facility to facility. In many mental facilities, the patient is required to sign the record before and after the procedure, in order to ensure their proper care and keep track of where they are at all times…and while, at first glace, it looked like signatures were there, when you looked closer you had realized that they was, in fact, forgeries. 

Now it was just a matter of chasing the doctor down. As you speed down the highway, Morgan and Rossi in tow, they keep looking over at you with wide eyes…surprised at your ability to maneuver a speeding vehicle down a loaded highway without so much as a close call. 

“Y/N, where are you?” Hotch says in your ear piece. 

“ETA: 4 minutes.” 

“Make it 2,” he counters. 

Nodding, you step on the gas and careen off of the exit, hoping you can get there in time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ok, I’m putting it down,” Spencer says as he and Hotch lower their weapons. 

The unsub had them as well as himself and his latest abduction barricaded in a house, gun to her head. 

“Just take it easy…” Hotch says as he slowly erects himself from his slumped position. 

“You don’t call the shots!” he yelled, holding out his gun as it trembles in his hand. 

“We’re here,” you say, hoping they can still hear you. You peek thru the window and see the unsub with the girl, holding a gun and screaming. As you run around to the back of the truck and throw the trunk open, you grab a bag and start running for the backyard. 

“Where are you going!?” Morgan says in your ear. “High ground. If you can’t get them out safely, I’m taking the shot.” 

As they furrow their brow in confusion, you crest a hilltop and stoop down low. Unzipping your bag, you take out the parts to your rifle, quickly assemble them, load it up, and get settled. 

As you adjust your scope, you hear Rossi in your ear. “You’re just full of surprises, Y/L/N.” 

Checking the wind velocity and direction, you adjust and get the unsub’s head in the scope. Taking a deep breath, you say, “Let me know when.” 

And then? You wait. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You see thru your scope Rossi and Morgan creep around, with J.J. at the ambulance shuffling from foot to foot, guarding the front door exit. As you watch the scene unfold, you see the unsub strike the girl with the butt of his gun, soon falling out of sight. 

Flinching, you gather yourself again, fixing your site back on him. You hear Morgan count down in your ear, and then a big crash. Looking thru your scope, you can’t see much, except for the girl getting up off of the floor and scurrying to someone, while the unsub opens his mouth as if he is screaming. 

Breathing deeply, you almost give into your screaming urge to put your gun away, until the unsub resurfaces…with Spencer. 

Feeling your heart stop, your fingertips grow cold. As the unsub continues to yell, you realize that Spencer can’t catch his breath. Hearing screams and yelping in your ear piece that you can’t make out, you hear Rossi in the background…

“Take the shot! Y/L/N…take the damn shot!” 

And just as you had been summoned, you aim, breathe…and pull.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hearing the commotion of the ambulances, you watch thru your scope as everyone emerges from the house: Rossi and Morgan bloodied, Hotch bamboozled, and Spencer in shock. 

Confirming that everyone was out of the house, you sit down and disassemble your weapon, placing each piece back in the bag. It had been quite a while since you had shot your rifle, and you found your shoulders trembling more than they should. Grabbing your bag, you stand up and look down at the scene to see everyone staring back up at you, and as the wind loosens your hair, blowing it around your shoulders, you take a deep breath to steady your gyrating hands. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Making sure you were first on the plane, you sit in the back seat, your back towards the front of the plane. You could hear the team file on, one by one, barely making a sound. You knew the day was hard on everyone, and you had tried to come up with a scenario, other than the truth, to explain your sniping skills, and just as if they could read your mind, everyone started to take the front seats first, filling them up before trickling back. 

As you feel the tightness in your throat start to clench shut on your wind pipe, you clear your throat and run your fingers thru your hair. 

You never did bother to pile it back on your head. 

As you daze off, the feeling of the plane slowly ascending in to the air and stabilizing, you swallow a bit too hard, willing the tears to keep themselves unseen.

Why did you ever think you could hide?

So lost in thought, you hadn’t even realized that Morgan and Spencer had sat down with you. Feeling a warm sensation in your hand, you jump, widening your eyes as you realize that they are sitting next to you. 

Lips quivering uncontrollably, Spencer squeezes your hand. You look down, releasing your tears from captivity, and feel a sense of longing as Morgan reaches for your other hand, and as the three of you sit in silence, feeling the churning of the plane engines and hearing the wind beneath its wings, you curse yourself for ever thinking that you could change.


	4. Tracker

Dragging your go-bag across the ground, you hear Hotch call out for you.

“My office, please.”

Sighing, your shoulders slump as you heave your way up the steps into Aaron’s office.

Here it is.

“I never authorized a sniper rifle,” he says sternly, looking down at something he is writing.

“I know, sir.”

“I also never authorized a shoot…much less a kill…in the field.”

“I know, sir.”

Slowly looking up at you, he hisses, “Do you know how much paperwork comes with a kill in the field?”

As you feel tears prickle the back of your eyes, your hands start to shake again, so you wrap them around your back, entwining your fingers.

“No, sir,” you choke out, barely above a whisper.

“Well,” he says, plopping paperwork down on his desk, “You’re about to find out.”

Lifting your eyes to his, he gathers the paperwork and places it in your arms. Coming around from his desk, he heads for his door, stopping shoulder-to-shoulder with you and leans into your ear.

“Off the record?” He feels you nod, and continues, “You saved my team. I don’t care about your past, I only care if you’re stable now.”

Feeling your jaw clench, a tear slips out of your eye and onto your cheek.

“Thank you, Y/L/N,” he whispers, making his way out the door.

“And don’t forget to lock up!” he yells at you from the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looking up at the clock, you realize that it’s 4 am. At this rate, by the time you got home, showered and changed for bed, it would be almost 5.

You look over at your go-bag, settle on the obvious, and pick it up. You find your way into the lounge, grab your light blanket from your bag, and curl up on the couch. You just wanted to sleep the rest of this memory away and wake up, refreshed and new again.

But as you close your eyes, you realize that that won’t happen. They’ve seen a part of you they would have never guessed existed.

And with realization come questions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Aaah!” you scream, grabbing the arm that was lightly rocking you. Startled, Spencer almost drops the coffees he is carrying.

“It’s alright,” he soothes, rubbing your arm. “It’s just me.”

Furrowing his brow in concern, you will your heart to stop beating so fast and slowly try to sit yourself up.

“Here, let me help,” Morgan says out of nowhere. Feeling his arm around your waist, he helps you sit upright as Spencer hands you a large cup of warm coffee.

Sniffing it, you smile when you realize that he has memorized your coffee order. But, then again, you did tell him. And he does have an eidetic memory. But still…it’s a wonderful gesture.

Until you realize that you told him to do this for you.

Shaking your head, you say, “You know, I was kidding about the coffee…you don’t actually have to bring it to me every morning.”

“I know,” he says, a light smile crossing his lips.

Grinning weakly, you take a sip of your coffee as Spencer slowly runs his hand onto your knee and squeezes.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice hitching.

You take your hand and you cup the back of his head, bringing his forehead to yours. “Always,” you whisper, feeling Morgan’s hand creep up your back and start rubbing lightly.

As tears start to rumble down your cheeks, Rossi appears in the doorway.

“There’s our little angel,” he says, coming in and sitting down in a chair opposite of the couch. “Pulled an all-nighter, I see.”

Sniffling and wiping the tears from your cheeks, you shoot him a playful glance. “Well, now I know the kind of paperwork that goes into kills in the field.”

“Good,” Hotch says, poking his head into the room. “You alright?” he asks, his tone of voice softening.

Nodding, you look down at your phone. “Briefing time,” you say, heaving yourself off of the couch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Another case, another catch,” you say, walking back into the BAU office. It had been 4 days since the paperwork, and you had a very welcoming phone call from Blake, saying that she would be back into work the next day.

But somehow, you were a little disappointed.

You knew she would eventually get better, but what you didn’t count on was making emotional connections with the people around you.

Huh, maybe you are changing.

As you grab your bag and walk towards your car, Garcia runs you down.

“Y/N! Y/N! Wait!”

Turning around, you see her shuffling along as fast as she can in her 6 inch wide-heeled shoes. Smiling, you had found that she was a sight for sore eyes. You enjoyed the color in her outfits. It was a great contrast to the darkness that prevailed this job.

“You need to see something,” she says, taking your arm and dragging you with her.

Groaning, you stumble behind her, anxious to get home and get a full night’s rest for the first time in two weeks.

As she pulls you into her room, your jaw hits the floor as you see what’s on the screen.

It’s you. You with your Y/C/E eyes and your Y/C/H hair…except you’re in the field.

The field from oh so long ago.

Picture after picture floods the screen. Pictures from Afghanistan and Kabul. Pictures of you in uniform. Pictures of you in the bathroom at your home, sitting out on your porch out back. Pictures of you drinking coffee with Spencer and Morgan.

And then…it happened.

The mother of all pictures.

A picture of you and the girls.

All 17 of them.

Dropping your go-bag, you rush out of Garcia’s office and up to the BAU main office, where everyone is staring at their computer screens. Everyone watches you as you come in.

“How far?” you turn and ask Garcia.

“I mean…I-I…”

“How far!?” you scream at her, taking her head in your hands. “Think,” you whisper, pleading with her.

“It’s all over the building, but I think it’s just the building,” she spits out at fast as she can.

Looking back over to the computers, there is a picture of you, bloodied and battered, nailed thru your hands to a wall as a man looks upon you in filth and lust.

Feeling your breath hitch in your throat, you realize what has happened.

“Oh my god,” you manage to slip out.

And then, the picture comes back. The picture with all of the girls…and you.

And then those words…the words in red…encompass the picture on the screen.

“Peek-a-boo.”

Screaming, you run your hands thru your hair, your vision tunneling as you try to grasp the full scenario of what has happened.

Someone got a hold of your file. Your original file.

As Spencer and Morgan try helplessly to calm you down, you hear the team asking you questions…so many questions from so far away.

Finding the staircase, you make a run for it, Morgan and Spencer close on your heels.

“Y/N!” Morgan’s bellow pierces your thought process.

“What is happening?” Spencer asks, grabbing your face with his hands.

“Someone’s been in my house,” you hiss, turning for the door.

“That’s pretty obvious,” Morgan grabs your arm, “But why?”

Shaking your head, there’s too much backstory…too much information to throw at him.

“Just…come with me,” you grab both of their hands and descend, two by two, down the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Running thru your front room, you jump over all of your furniture to get to your bedroom. Throwing the closet doors open, you pry up the carpet and step on the board underneath, revealing a safe.

Pulling it out, your hands bloodied from scraping them along the edges of the floorboard, you put in your combination and open the safe.

And inside…was nothing. Nothing but a disposable phone.

A disposable phone that you don’t own.

“Where is the file!?” you scream, rage filling up inside of your chest.

As Morgan and Spencer stand at the edge of your room, weapons drawn, the phone rings.

Ring ring. Ring ring.

As Morgan nods to you, you pick it up and put it on speakerphone.

You all furrow your brows as you hear nothing but breathing on the other end.

And then…a voice pierces the silence.

“They look good in your bedroom, Y/N.”

As Spencer’s eyes dart around, Morgan’s fist start to clamp in anger. “My my, look at how protective they are of you. Have they ever mentioned their recent…intimate encounters.”

As you look both of them in the face, they look at each other and flush. You knew that the two of them were close, but you had never realized how close until that very moment.

“The way those two look at you…I’m almost a little jealous.”

“Who are you?” you ask, trying to keep your voice calm.

“Who am I?” the voice repeats. “The real question is: do they know who you are?”

Staying silent, the voice on the other end chuckles. “I thought so. Oh, Y/F/N Y/L/N, trying to be so innocent, and yet bathes in so much blood.”

Feeling your knees give way, you quickly sit yourself on your bed. “Where are the girls? Where are my girls?” the fear in your voice growing by the millisecond.

“Oh, I don’t have the girls. That was just to get your attention. Spencer, you really should ask her about those girls. That mission was a hell of a good one.”

As you watch Spencer’s jaw clench, the voice says, “I just loved nailing her to my wall…”

And as your eyes widen at the realization of who has been tracking you, the phone slips from your hand as you attempt to catch your breath, with Morgan grabbing it on the way down.


	5. Your Boys

Feeling the panic rise in your throat, Morgan and Spencer sit on either side of you as the man on the other end continues to speak.

“You know…you really should tell them about me…”

Snapping out of it, you rip the phone from Morgan’s hand.

“What the hell do you want?” you sneer.

“I want them to know exactly the kind of influence I have over you…I want them to know exactly why you are no longer in the military.”

And as the line goes dead, you pick up your phone and dial Hotch’s number.

“Y/N, what’s going on,” he demands.

“First…I have a story to tell,” you say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the four of you sit in your living room, the rest of the team guarding the house, you pull the shades.

“…so, essentially, they discharged me because I couldn’t get my…mental faculties…in order after this particular mission.” you say, your head dipped into your hands.

As Spencer rubs your back, Morgan runs his hands thru your hair. “Y/N, there is nothing wrong with that. You did nothing wrong. You have just…seen a lot of shit.”

As you feel your breath catch in your throat, tears spring to your eyes. “The military was my life!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air.

“And now, we can be your life,” Spencer muses, taking your hands in his. Furrowing your brow at him, you get the feeling that he isn’t just talking about himself…or about just being friends.

As the team starts to gather in your house, you sigh and swallow the tears down.

“The mission in question was to extract 17 girls from a sex trafficking ring in Columbia,” you start with the team now around you. “I was sent in with the plan that an extraction team would come for us in 4 weeks. Deep cover, changed appearances, the works.”

As everyone nods at you, you feel Morgan’s hand grip yours tightly. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” you ask, looking up at him.

“We have to know who’s chasing you,” he chokes back.

Sighing, you continue. “I had gotten to know the girls…earn their trust…and, one-by-one, I revealed who I was. We slowly concocted a plan on how to get out by the extraction date, and it essentially involved drugging a room full of diplomats that had reserved the “hall” for a “party.” The plan was to wait until they were knocked out, then pry open the sewer vent and run/swim to safety.”

As everyone’s eyes are on you intently, you continue.

“But a hitch in the plan occurred. All the girls got down into the sewer, but I was caught before I could shut the grated top. I was pulled out, and I hit the red button on the wall and told them all the hold their breath. I flushed them out to sea…without me.”

As you feel their gazes drift over you, you choke back vomit as you heave your chest. Spencer rushes to grab a bag, holding it in front of your mouth just in time.

As Morgan helps you clean up, you continue with your story, no longer holding back the tears. “They took me and the sold me to the highest bidder by that evening. This…this man that is chasing me…h-he…”

Sobbing into your hands, your entire body trembles.

“He nailed me to his wall with a nail gun, and proceeded to rape me on videotape. Said it was “punishment” for being such a bad girl.”

As Spencer holds you close to his chest, Morgan gets up and punches a hole in your wall. As he screams out, the team tries to calm him down, and as you feel the vomit welling in your throat again, you bend over the bag, releasing all of the pent-up emotion as your body overrides your mental strength.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally getting your wits about you, you get up to rinse your mouth out, shewing Spencer away…who was on your heels the entire time.

Sighing at the kitchen sink, Morgan comes over and wraps his arms around you.

“We are gonna get this guy,” he whispers, “But you can’t stay here alone.”

Putting your head on the edge of the sink, you know he’s right. You are being watched every second of the day, but you know that being at anyone else’s place puts them and their own families at greater risk.

Shaking your head, you turn around, your body flush with him. “I can’t put anyone else in danger by residing at anyone’s house. He’s just going to find me there. He has been in my house…he has my file,” you say, gesturing to your bedroom. “Nowhere is safe,” you choke out.

“Then you will go to the safe-house,” Hotch steps in and says, “Morgan and Spencer can go with you, so you feel safe and around people that you trust.”

“I can’t ask them to do that,” you whisper, shaking your head.

“Too bad,” Spencer holds up two bags, “Morgan and I already packed. Time for you to do the same.”

Sighing, you slowly walk back to your room and open up your empty bag. Might as well pack comfortable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entering the safe-house, you drop your bag on the floor. J.J. and Hotch are on your heels, bringing up groceries and freezer goods.

“Now remember, no calls, no take-out, and no internet,” he grabs your shoulders and says. You acknowledge him by nodding, still in a state of shock.

“What if he finds me,” you whisper, turning your gaze towards the ground.

“Then I’ll kill ‘em,” Morgan says, coming up with his and Spencer’s bag.

Shooting him a glance, Spencer comes up the stairs and into the room. “I second that motion,” he says, a grimace coming across his face.

“No one is killing anyone,” you say, sighing as you break from Hotch’s grasp.

“If there’s a major update, someone will come to you with the information,” J.J. says before she hugs you close. “Stay safe. Be on alert. We will catch him.”

Nodding, you slowly shut the door behind them, locking all of the locks and dead bolts as they head down the stairs.

You turn back to the two men on the couch, and as your eyes start to flutter with exhaustion, you make your way to the couch.

“So, there’s two bedrooms, and three of us,” you say.

“Yep,” Morgan pops the “p.” “Spencer and I are going to take shifts staying up, and whenever the other needs to sleep, we will take the room you’re not in.

Furrowing your brow, you feel an odd sense of…disappointment?

That’s odd.

Nodding slowly, you pick up your bed and start for the room on your left. Dropping your bag on the floor, you look at yourself in the mirror…sunken in eyes, bodacious bags, and breath that smells like you swallowed a fart squirrel.

Making your way to the bathroom, you pull out your toiletries and wrangle your toothbrush. You foam at the mouth as you try to clean every last part of your teeth, spit, and follow it closely with mouthwash.

Rinsing out your mouth, you raise your shirt over your head and sling it out of the room, and as you kick your shoes off you walk back into your bedroom, you see Spencer standing there.

“Oh, my god!” he says throwing his hands up to shield his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he says, trying to find the exit to the room.

“Do I look that bad, Reid?” you ask him, your eyebrow cocked in the air.

As he slowly drops his hand and looks at you, his face flushes. “No, no that’s not it at all…I just…I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were going to be undressing.”

“It’s alright,” you mutter, “Just getting more comfortable.”

“Morgan and I…we thought uh…” as his eyes caress your body, your face flushes as you turn and start to take off your pants. “Wanna watch a movie?” he blurts out, spinning around to give you privacy.

Chuckling at him, you slip an over-sized shirt over your head, releasing your hair from the messy bun its been in all day. “Sounds amazing,” you say, turning back towards him.

Spencer scurries out of the room, and as you walk out and sit on the couch between them, you find that Spencer’s hand rests nicely on your knee, while Morgan’s arm feels strong around your back.


	6. Chapter 6

“Did you know that Bruce Willis’ first name is actually Walter. Bruce is, in fact, his middle name, and that the Die Hard series rose him to Hollywood’s number one actor before he hit his slump?”

As Morgan shoots you a look, Spencer stifles a chuckle. “So, you know everything plus pop culture?”

“I’m not snooty with my reading material,” you smirk, bending your head over to glance at him, winking, as you elicit a chuckle from Morgan.

“You guys, watch the movie,” he says, dropping your foot and picking up the other.

“Oh, god,” you moan. You had no idea Morgan could give such good foot rubs.

“Hey, I want a little piece of this action,” Spencer playfully whines, putting his hands on your shoulders and massaging them.

“Good…uuuungh,” you groan, sinking into the couch as the boys try to relieve some of the tension you are carrying from the events of the evening.

The truth? Not one of you could sleep. So you came to a compromise: if none of you were asleep by the end of Die Hard, you got to watch one of your favorite movies: A League of Their Own.

As Morgan moves to your calf, Spencer moves to your neck. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax, and shivers start to run up your spine. Catching the hair standing up on the back of your neck, Spencer snickers.

“Feeling good?” he says as he draws out the “oo.” Sighing, Morgan moves to your other calf, the skin on your legs starting to pock up.

“You deserve it, baby girl,” he lowers his voice.

No one was paying the movie any mind now.

As you relax onto Spencer’s torso, you feel his lips lightly graze your ear, causing you to suck in breath, and as you gasp, you see Morgan smirk as his hand slowly travels up your thigh.

“What do you need?” Spencer whispers into your ear. “What do you want?” he pleads.

And just as quickly as you relaxed, you snap back into reality, realizing that the two men, whom you’ve only known for a month, who are supposed to be protecting you…who are in an intimate relationship with each other!…are trying to hit on you.

Whirling your feet around, you jump up from the couch, startling them both.

“I think I need some rest,” you say, with your cheeks flushed and your knees weak.

And as you scurry into your room and lock the door, Spencer and Morgan sit there dumbfounded and guilt-ridden.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sinking down the door, you butt hits the floor with a bang. Trying to catch your breath, tears of…something…run down your cheeks involuntarily.

“We came on too strong,” you hear Morgan say.

“She seemed like she was enjoying it…” Spencer trails off.

“She’s been through a lot, especially in the last 12 hours,” Morgan throws back.

“Did we…” Spencer lowers his voice, “…take _advantage_ of her?”

As you hear Morgan choke back his emotion, you sigh as you run your hand up the door, slowly turning the knob.

Throwing it open, you turn yourself around on the floor, looking at both of them, your protectors, completely defeated.

“You didn’t…take advantage of me,” you say barely above a whisper.

“We’re sorry,” Spencer gives you his puppy dog eyes. “We were just trying to help you relax…and you are so beautiful…and we-”

As you hold up your hand, he stops. You push yourself up and walk over to the couch, sitting on the coffee table to face them both.

“What is _happening_ here?” you ask wildly, “Because it’s _got_ to be against some rule somewhere.”

As Spencer and Morgan look at each other, Morgan sighs. “I don’t know,” he breathes. “Quite honestly, I don’t know how…” he gestures between him and Spencer, “… _this_ ever happened. But once it did, it just…”

“Continued,” Spencer finishes his sentence.

“We know the team knows,” Spencer continues, “But because it doesn’t affect our ability to work with each other or focus on cases, Hotch has never advised us against it. It's never become a topic of conversation because we've never felt a need to...define it."

Nodding slowly, you lean in closer, “So…where do I fit in? I mean, it’s only been, what?...a month!?...since I first came in and pissed off Spencer here?” you say, nodding your head over towards him.

As the three of you look between each other, you put your head in your hands.

“What happened on the couch was…glorious, and wonderful, and relaxing…and completely confusing,” you groan.

As they both nod at you, you get up and sit between them, grabbing their hands and bringing them to your lips.

“You are my boys,” you kiss their hands lightly, “And I don’t want to destroy that over some…frivolous desire.”

Morgan furrows his brow and Spencer speaks up. “You think you’re frivolous?”

As you look up into Spencer’s eyes, those eyes that are pleading with you to put the pieces together, you sigh as you put your hand on his knee. “I don’t want…”

“Us?” Morgan tries to finish.

“No! Not at all! I mean…I mean yes, I want you guys…in any capacity I can have you. But, there’s three of us, and one of us bound to…you know, ‘catch feelings’ for someone.”

As understanding wafts over both of their faces, their giggles grow into deep, tummy-rumbling chuckles.

“You think Spencer and I are just friends with benefits,” Morgan says.

As your brow furrows, you realize where you’ve gone wrong.

“You two…” you drift off as you point back and forth between the two of them.

“I love Derek very much,” Spencer says, reaching out and taking his hand.

“He’s my pretty boy,” Morgan cheeses, all teeth and no eyes.

“And what we have found…” Spencer grabs your hand.

“…is that we both care for _you_ ,” Morgan finishes, taking your other hand. “Face it, baby girl…you’re stuck with us.”

And as a smile of relief crashes itself onto your lips, you lean into Spencer as Morgan wraps his strong arms around you both, kissing each of you on your respective cheeks.

“Now,” Morgan says sternly, pulling your gaze to his. “Get some rest. We have a long road ahead of us.”


	7. Show and Tell

It had been two weeks, and you were just about to give up on the search for this madman. Two weeks within the confines of a small apartment, cut off from the world…cut off from your job.

Until a furious knock lands upon the door.

As Spencer holds out his arm, Morgan slowly opens the door.

“Let me in,” you hear Hotch demand.

As you let out the breath you are holding, he looks at you and says, “We have him.”

As your eyes grow wide, Hotch takes a deep breath and sighs, “But I need you to come with me.”

Furrowing your brow, Hotch takes another step towards you. “He says he won’t talk to anyone else but you.”

Nodding your head, you walk back to your room and get dressed, with protests flying from both Spencer and Morgan as you shut the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking down the hall to the interrogation room, your breath hitches as you look thru the window on the door.

There he sits, with his distant eyes and his cool demeanor.

Your body shivers as Morgan puts his hand on your shoulder.

“We will be just on the other side of that glass, Y/N,” he says, lowering his voice.

Nodding, you slowly open the door and step in to the room. Whipping his head up, he smiles that disgusting smile as you walk in to the room.

As you make your way to the chair and sit down, you will yourself not to vomit all over the table in front of you.

“Well, well,” he says, leaning forward…attempting to establish dominance.

Not saying a word, you mock his movements, setting your elbows on the table and crossing your arms in front of you, shamelessly flaunting your bosom at him as his eyes slowly undress your torso.

You could feel your stomach turn with every lick of his lips.

“My,” he seethes, “What a…wonderful…woman you have grown in to.”

Careful to keep your expression still, he cocks his head at you, leaning in and taking a large sniff of the perfume you are wearing.

When he finally leans back, you mimic his movements, cocking your head to match his, not saying a word.

“Nothing to say?” he leans back and holds out his arms, physically inviting your spoken language to caress his inner ear.

And, imitating him once more, you lean back and cross your legs, placing your hands in your lap.

“Answer me!” he roars, slamming his palms in to the table as the chair goes flying back into the opposite wall.

“You know,” you lick your lips and lean forward, “I never did tell them our little secret,” you hiss.

As his eyes grow wide, Morgan and Spencer look at each other behind the double-sided glass.

Rendered silent for the first time since you entered the room, you continue. “I mean, they know about the nails,” you say as you lean back into the chair, “…and they know about the rape,” you lull, “But, what they don’t know…” you lean forward again and drop your voice to a whisper, “is what you raped me with.”

“You shut that filthy mouth of yours, you little bitch,” he man seethes behind his locked jaw.

“What they don’t know,” you get up and slowly meander to his side of the table, leaning down into his face, “is that you raped me with a cucumber, because you couldn’t get it up,” you whisper, popping the “p.”

Lunging at you, he wraps both of his hands around your neck, slamming you into the double-sided glass and lifting you off of your feet. Clawing at his hands, you feel your vision quickly fading as he cuts off your only source of air.

Hearing a thud, you feel Spencer’s arms around you, holding you steady while your legs give out beneath you, and when you look over you see that Morgan had crashed into the man and barreled him into the wall.

“You have the right to remain silent…” he repeats, as his voice fades off into the distance.

Looking over towards the door, you see Hotch standing there, a light grin on his face. As he nods to you, you nod back, knowing that the only source of sunlight this man will ever see again is the sunlight of required yard time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in your driveway, your neck still throbbing from a few hours ago, you take a deep breath before heaving yourself out of the car. You were absolutely exhausted. After the weight of this roaming madman had been lifted from your shoulders, you stayed to watch as they locked him up in a solitary cell, going down not just for the stalking, but also for the assault on a federal officer.

Fumbling with your key in the lock, Morgan takes your hand in his and slowly slips the keys out from your hands.

“Let me,” he says, sticking the key in the lock and opening your door.

As you drag yourself in, you flop onto your couch just as Spencer closes the door and locks it behind him.

“You guys don’t have to stay, you know,” you say, turning around to meet their gazes. “I mean, you’ve lived with me for two whole weeks. I’m sure you are sick of me. I will be alright, I promise.”

As they both look at you with dumbfounded looks, you furrow your brow in confusion.

“You really don’t get where we are coming from, do you, Y/N?” Morgan asks incredulously.

As you open your mouth to say something, you find yourself at a loss for words.

“We care about you,” Spencer adds. “As in, we want to spend all the time we can with you because you make us feel good.”

Staring off through the window, you realize that, for the first time in a long time, you are treading in waters that you are unfamiliar with.

“I suppose I don’t…” you trail off.

As Morgan and Spencer come and kneel beside you, Morgan cups the back of your head with his hand, pulling your face so close you could feel his warm breath on your lips.

“Then let us show you,” he whispers, and before you can open your mouth in protest, his presses his soft, plump lips against yours.


	8. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning for this chapter.

Feeling your body slowly give way, you lean into the kiss, and as Morgan supports your torso, he pulls back and looks into your eyes.

“Please, let me in. Let us in, Y/N,” he begs.

As your eyes suddenly start to fill with tears, you feel Spencer’s delicate, yet firm, grip on your shoulders, kneading into the tension that you had been carrying for the past three weeks, willing it to go away with every swipe of his thumb.

Feeling Morgan slowly lay you down onto the couch, Spencer’s fingers continue to work your shoulders and neck and Morgan slowly slips off your shoes and socks, placing them off to the side as he strikes up his infamous foot rub.

As you feel your body slowly sink into the couch, the tension releasing itself from both ends of your body, you slowly feel your core start to churn.

Spencer’s fingers start to massage your scalp, and as you close your eyes to relax, he bends down and kisses your ear lightly. You groan lightly, eliciting a smile from Spencer as Morgan’s hands slip up to your calves, kneading them with his knuckles as your legs start to relax.

Opening your eyes, you see Spencer’s upside-down face hovering above yours. As you smile, he dips his face closer, taking your top lip into his mouth as he slowly eases his tongue into a deep, passionate kiss.

Bringing your hand up and around, you cradle Spencer’s head, running your fingers thru his hair as his kisses trail down your neck, lightly nipping at your collarbone on the way down.

“Your plunging shirts are _wonderfully_ distracting,” Spencer says breathlessly as he places wet kiss after wet kiss all along your exposed sternum.

Feeling Morgan’s hands slowly trail up to your thighs, he runs his fingers around the top of your pants, slowly pulling them down as you lift your hips to aid in the process. Jumping as you feel his warm touch on your thighs, he begins to massage them, inching ever so closely to your flaming hot spot.

As your breath begins to hitch, you feel Spencer slide back, hiking your shirt above you and slowly sliding it off of your body. He takes his arms and leans you up, undoing your bra strap with one hand, slipping it off of your body and freeing you aching breasts.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, plunging his lips to your nipple, tracing the outline of one in his mouth as he lightly pinches and circles the other with his finger. You body starts to lightly shake as Morgan’s fingers slowly trace the outline of your wet lips, all the while Spencer running his hands along every line of your body, not able to soak up enough of you at any one given moment.

And then, all at once, Spencer is on his feet and Morgan has you in his arms, carrying you to your bedroom with Spencer leaving a trail of his clothes behind you both, following close behind.

Shutting the door and turning off the light, Morgan lays you on the bed, kissing the inside of your thighs as Spencer lifts your torso to sit behind you, his throbbing erection pulsating in between your shoulder blades.

The feeling of his growing length made you moan as Morgan slowly parted your dripping pussy lips, slowly entering one lonely finger.

“Oh, god,” you whisper breathlessly as Spencer bucks lightly against your back. “Come here,” you moan, grabbing Spencer’s neck and bending him down into a kiss.

As he shifts his body to be more comfortable, you wrap your hand around his length, slowly pumping him within your soft hand just as Morgan places his tongue right on your sensitive mound, eliciting a loud, guttural groan as you start to involuntarily buck against his mouth.

“My god, Y/N,” Spencer moans as he thrusts in to your hand, planting kisses on every place he can reach as you hold him hostage. Morgan picking up his pace, flicking and sucking, and all of a sudden he slowly runs his teeth lightly across your mound.

And that’s all it takes.

Arching your back into the air, Spencer kisses you furiously, swallowing your gasps and moans as your core convulses and your legs shake around Morgan’s head.

Coming down off of your high, Morgan stands up and takes his clothes off, his rippling muscles gleaming in the dim light of the moon shining through the curtain covering your bedroom window.

Lifting you up, Morgan pulls himself close to you, cradling the back of your head as he kisses you slowly, letting you savor your taste on his lips, his tongue slowly probing to be inside.

Deepening the kiss, you feel Spencer latch onto your collarbone from behind, placing his body flush with your back. You reach your free hand back to him, cradling the back of his head as he slowly marks every place he sets his mouth. You were in heaven. Right between the two men you trusted most.

And you felt _beautiful_.

As Morgan starts to kiss down your neck, he laces his fingers with Spencer’s, resting both of their hands on your shoulder as he grabs his protruding erection and finds your sopping wet entrance. Slowly sliding in, you moan his name and flop your head back, feeling Spencer’s forehead support you as you lean back onto him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, slowly running his cock along the entrance of your backside.

“I-I’ve…never done that before,” you stammer, leaning your head to the side as Morgan thrusts very slowly, waiting for Spencer to set himself up.

“It’s alright, beautiful,” you hear Morgan lower his voice. “He will go slow. We will _both_ go slow.”

Hearing Spencer spit…you’re honestly not sure where…he starts to rub his now wet rock-hard dick against your backside once again, slowly slipping the tip of himself into you.

“Sssss,” you suck in.

Lightly biting down into your neck, Spencer flicks his tongue as Morgan thrusts into you again, and you feel your body relax.

Feeling Spencer push in a little further, you feel pressure, then pain…and then the thrusting and flicking as your body relaxes again.

On and on it goes, until Spencer fills you from behind, and as you sigh in absolute relief, you dip your head back onto his shoulder as Morgan wraps his arms around your waist. You feel Spencer reach around, threading his arms underneath yours, both holding you up and wrapping his palms around to Morgan’s back.

“Hold on, beautiful,” Morgan whispers into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe.

And just like that, the two men pin you in between them as they begin thrusting from both sides, sliding all the way out, only to pummel back in, sending your sensations through the roof. You moan and scream out incoherent languages as pleasure ricochets throughout your body, feeling their hot breath cover you in a sheen of condensation.

Grasping on to Morgan, you feel your legs start to shake as they press their bodies closer together, trapping you in between as they buck their hips, moaning your name into your ear.

“Oh…good, god…Y/N…just…Geez…Christ!”

The sound, alone, was orgasm-inducing.

And before you knew it, you were yelling their names up to the ceiling and grabbing onto their necks, hanging on for dear life as your body shook and convulsed, digging your teeth into Morgan’s meaty chest as they both lean their heads back and fill you at both ends with their seed.

“Oh, god! Oh, Derek...Spencer...my...oh, god...!”

With the three of you toppling onto the bed, trying to catch your breath as your bodies ride your highs, you smile as tears slowly creep down your face.

“Oh, my god…” you trail off, your breath hitching in your throat.

And as they both roll over, each of them taking you into their arms, the three of you tangle your arms and legs together in an endless knot as you mutter how much you love them, just before drifting off to sleep.


	9. Bathrobes

Waking up the next morning was a task. First, you couldn’t move, so you panicked and thought the worst. Then, you feared that last night had been nothing but a glorious dream, so your heart started to sink. And after that, you realized that the reason you couldn’t move was because of what had happened last night: a combination of limbs holding you down and your body throbbing with sore delight.

And you smiled.

Grunting, you attempted to roll over, and, in the process, steam-rolled right over Morgan, who groaned and helped you get up onto the side of the bed, sitting yourself up so you could stretch.

“What a sight,” you hear him croak, as your back muscles tense and release as each vertebrae in your spine realigns itself after the beating it took last night.

Heh. Beating.

“Coffee…?” you hear a drowsy Spencer huff as the bed begins to move again. Giggling lightly to yourself, you grab the comforter and toss it around your body, turning towards the guys as they struggle to get the sheet over their naked bodies.

“Not cool,” Morgan says, eyeing you playfully as you fumble your way into the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, your disheveled hair pointing every which way, you turn on the faucet to the sink, preparing to clean yourself up.

Tap tap.

“Um…I-…Y/N?” you hear a shy Spencer say.

Smiling to yourself as you brush your teeth, you reach over and sling open the door. Looking at Spencer, his naked body very appealing and his morning wood standing at attention, he blushes as he runs his fingers thru his very tangled hair.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

Turning your head, you give him privacy as he does his…business. Spitting in the sink, you pick up your spray bottle of water and conditioner and slowly start to tame your hair.

“What is that you’re putting in your hair?” Spencer eyes you as you bend over and fluff your hair out.

“It’s just a half and half solution: water and my conditioner. It helps tame my insane mane for the two days in between washings,” you respond.

As he furrows his brow, you drop the comforter as you move towards him. “Want to try?”

As Spencer takes in the full-view of you, realizing that it’s the first time he has seen your naked figure in full-blown light, he blushes furiously as you move closer to him.

“Bend down,” you lower your voice, watching him get on his knees.

Spraying the contents of the bottle onto his hair, you slowly start to finger your way thru the knots and tangles, slowly watching his hair settle down into the beautiful, albeit insane, texture that it always is.

Feeling relaxed, he leans his head into you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You sigh with content, loving the feeling of his hands on the small of your back.

“Y/N?” Spencer asks as you continue to run the solution thru his hair.

“Hmmm?” you respond.

“Are you alright?”

As he looks up at you, a worried expression taking over his eyes, you get onto your knees and take his face in your hands.

“I’m perfect,” you purr, kissing him on his cheek. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No, oh no!” Spencer says, his eyes growing wide. “It’s just that…it’s been a very…um…interesting past few weeks for you…what with coming to a new team, and then that…that man,” he spits, “…reappearing, and then all the stuff that happened with us…and then all the stuff that happened last night…”

“Spencer, Spencer,” you say, putting your fingers to his lips, trying to calm him ranting. “Just spit it out.”

And as his expression falls to the floor, you hear him mutter, “I was so rude to you in the beginning, and Morgan was so kind…and I’m just…I’m just scared that you will love him more than me.”

Feeling tears spring to your eyes, you throw your arms around him, your bare chests pressing together, as you rub your hand up and down his back.

“Never gonna happen,” you whisper, kissing his ear lightly.

Feeling Spencer smile into the crook of your neck, you shoot back up to your feet, grabbing the spray bottle off of the sink. “Now,” you state, “Let’s get this hair under control.”

After a few more minutes, you smile at your handiwork as Morgan…scantily clad in his boxers…rounds the corner and starts to laugh.

“Well, well, Spencer Reid…fancy seeing you on your knees.”

As Spencer shoots up off of the ground, he tries to stammer out a response.

“I’m just sad you started without me,” he continues, winking at you as Spencer continues to blush. 

Grabbing the comforter and wrapping it around yourself, you show Morgan the spray bottle of solution you had been putting on his hair…but not before you allow Morgan to get a pretty nice eyeful of the body he was caressing last night.

“Just fixing his insane hair,” you say as you turn to put the bottle up.

“Thank god,” Morgan exclaims in fake surprise, “It’s about time.”

You hear Spencer chuckle as he emerges with his boxers and undershirt on. “I smell breakfast,” he says, wrapping his strong, slender arms around Derek and nuzzling into his neck.

“Smells fantastic,” you hear him mutter.

“Alright, pretty boy,” Morgan says, turning around while you slip by to find your pajama bottoms, “Save some for later.” You could practically feel the wink Morgan gave him.

“He’s right, though,” you say, pulling your shirt over your head, “It smells phenomenal. I didn’t realize we were in the bathroom so long.”

“You weren’t,” Morgan says, smirking, “I ran up to the diner up the street and got some take-out trays.”

“Like that!?” Spencer says, his eyes getting wide as they both turn to face you.

“No!” Morgan shrieks, feigning his disposition, “I cannot believe you would think I would go out in public like this.”

And as you stifle your giggle, Morgan looks at you and smiles, “After all, that is what bathrobes are for.”


	10. Epilogue

“Y/N, we’re gonna need you on this case.”

Hanging up the phone, you stretch your body across the gigantic bed in your bedroom. After six months steady with your boys, you decided to invest in a much larger bed.

Things had pretty much settled down. Blake was back at the BAU, you were back to consulting, and you found that your relationship with Derek and Spencer didn’t impede your working relationship as much as you thought it would.

Grabbing your go-bag, you walk out the door, making sure you have enough time to stop off and get coffee on your way in.

Pressing the unlock button to your car, you hop into the driver’s seat, the aroma of caramel greatly permeating the enclosure. Looking around, you find a large cup of coffee sitting in the cup holder next to your seat, with a note tied around it.

Good morning, wonderful. See you in a few.

You recognized Spencer’s handwriting. You had quickly come to find out that he was the romantic of the group, with Morgan specializing in the vacation-planning, so you had found when you had awoken a couple of weeks ago to a travel tickets to the Bahamas, alongside dates that you needed to ask the boss off for.

You loved their little surprises.

Walking into work, coffee in hand, you smile and give Spencer a peck on the cheek, putting your “Request for Leave” papers on Hotch’s desk upstairs.

Shuffling into the meeting room, you sit down between your boys as Spencer hands you another folder full of murdered faces and suggested unsubs.

Sighing as Garcia’s voice fades into the background, you grab the small of the bridge of your nose and press down, willing your headache to go away. It had been there for a couple of days now, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

As Morgan eyes you questioningly, he leans into your ear and whispers, “You alright, Y/N?”

Nodding your head, you close your eyes as you continue to listen to Garcia, the headache growing stronger by the second.

Feeling eyes start to turn your way, Garcia pauses as you hear Rossi’s voice flutter above everyone’s heads.

“You alright, Y/L/N?”

“It’s just this damn headache,” you groan, leaning back into your chair, breathing deep as your stomach starts to turn, “Everything is just so damn loud.”

Feeling hands up under your armpits, someone helps you from your chair and guides you out of the room. Walking you to the lounge, the lights get turned out as you are laid onto the couch, a cool washcloth over your eyes.

“How long have you had this migraine?” you hear Spencer’s voice squeak.

“A couple of days now.”

As silence permeates the room, you feel a strong hand on your leg as the couch shifts downward a bit.

“What?” you ask, turning your head towards their body heat.

“I...uh...” Spencer stumbles, looking for the right words.

“What he’s trying to say is,” Morgan takes your hand, “...is that it’s been a couple of months since we’ve been together, Y/N.”

Sighing, you grow frustrated, “You’re going to complain about our lack of intimacy now, Spencer?” your brow furrows in exacerbation.

“No, Y/N,” his tone of voice grows series, “It’s just that...I’ve noticed a bit of a change in your walking gait, and a change in how much food you eat, and now...with the headache...”

As he drifts off, you rip the cold washcloth off of your face, sitting up as you open your wide eyes to his face.

“There’s no way,” you say, shaking your head, ignoring the pounding, “I’ve been on birth control for quite a bit of time in my life.”

“We’re just saying...” Morgan buts in, squeezing the hand he is holding.

“No,” you continue to repeat, “That’s not...it’s not...I’m not...”

And as you lean over and vomit on Spencer’s shoes, you feel Morgan’s hand hold your torso from behind as Spencer chuckles quietly.

“I think Morgan might have an errand to run,” he smiles, eyeing Morgan with a twinge of excitement.


End file.
